


Dead Meat

by shadowcatsprite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 09:08:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowcatsprite/pseuds/shadowcatsprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was for a DeanCastiel fic contest and my prompt word was: belly<br/>so</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Meat

There were books scattered everywhere, mountains of them filling up Bobby’s small living room and stacks threatening to topple over with the smallest disturbance, even a small nudge from Sam when he made his way to the crowded desk with his laptop would send books flying off in every direction. A stack of books nearest the window swayed for a moment when it came in contact with Sam’s shoulder; his hands hovered out to catch any books that might fall from their place but it stopped leaning. Sam let out a relieved sigh and turned to sit down; as soon as he pulled out his chair the stack behind him fell over.

            “Shit!” Dean bellowed, slamming the book he currently had in his hand and throwing it across the room, making it collide and take down another small pile of books.

He was fuming, shoving up from his seat in the armchair opposite Sam to pace around the room, picking up books he has already read cover to cover, books that proved to be useless to him, only to throw them into the pile on the floor.

            “Fuck,”

            “Calm down Dean, I’ll pick them up. It’s okay.” Sam reassured his brother as he bent down to reorganized the stack closest to him.

            “No it’s not okay. None of this is helping, we are getting  _nowhere_  with this shit,” Dean sat back down in the armchair and buried his head in his hands. They had been at this for what seemed like months and they were still no closer to understanding anything. There were no incantations, no weapons, no rituals,  _nothing_  that would them get to Cas. Help them beat “God’.

            “We’ll find something,” Sam reasoned as he sat down at his computer to continue their research. “There’s got to be something. Cas put those souls in him; we’ll find a way to get them out. To get Cas back.”

            “I want him dead.” Dean’s voice was stone cold and no longer muffled by his hands, he was staring at Sam.

            “Dean—“

            “No.” he cut off the hesitant plea he could hear in Sam’s voice with his own, full of authority, sounding so much like their father.

            “He broke your wall,” Dean could see the exact moment Sam tensed up at the mention of it. the flinch and full body shudder it caused him whenever the sensitive subject was broached.

“What if you had never woken up?” Dean continued, anger showing through his time, "You could have— Sammy it could have killed you. Because of Cas. I want him dead.” Dean spoke the last sentence like Sam was thirteen all over again and Dean’s word was law in order to survive.

Before Sam could respond, try to reason with Dean to spare their lost friend there was a familiar yet strange flutter of wings. Cas was standing amongst their stacks of books, his stance straighter than usual, more terrifying and an eerie smile spread across his lips.

            “Hello Sam.” The once angle greeted, lips curling up into a devilish grin.

Sam’s entire body froze, knuckles turning white from gripping the arms of his wooden chair so hard. His eyes widened at the sight of Cas and he couldn’t move. Couldn’t run. The moment Dean had registered Cas was actually standing there, that this wasn’t one of his dreams again, that Cas was in the fucking living room with them, he reached behind his back.

It wouldn’t kill him, Dean learned that the first time he ever met Cas but damn would it feel good to empty a few rounds into the son of a bitch angel who betrayed them and almost killed his brother. As his hand tightened on the pistol shoved in the back of his pants Castiel tilted his head towards Dean and smiled again. That creepy, inhumane and  _not Cas_  smile. Dean didn’t even feel his finger pull the trigger, he felt numb by anger but he heard it happen. At the sound of the first shot ringing out there was also bright white light and then he was gone. No longer in the warmth of Bobby’s home.

 

 

“Dean.” Castiel sighed Dean's name as if he was addressing a small child.

“What did you—“

            “I wanted to talk to you,” the grin spilt across his face, “Some questions I’d like to ask, things I’d like to know. Thought this would be an appropriate setting for such matters.”

A cool feeling spread across Dean’s body then, the pressure was still there pushing him down into the table but soon he began to feel as if he was being pumped full of drugs, the hazy feeling that was beginning to subside washing over him again.

Dean’s eyes caught Castiel’s hands moving and that’s when he saw it, a table of knifes and surgical instruments. He looked up and noticed Castiel was smiling again.

            “Don’t you trust me Dean? You were always  _so good_  with trusting me.”

Castiel picked up one of the smaller knifes and brought his hand to hover over Dean’s belly, Dean tried to flinch away but he couldn’t move. When Castiel lowered the knife Dean prepared to keep his mouth shut, keep from screaming and giving any sort of satisfaction to Castiel but he wouldn’t feel a damn thing. He could sense the numb pressure getting tighter around where Castiel sliced him open but he felt no pain whatsoever. Dean looked up surprised at Castiel.

            “Don’t worry Dean,” he laughed “I’m not going to kill you, not just yet.”

            “Humans are very interesting creatures; I’ve never been able to look at them like this before. With these new eyes.” Castiel began as if he was not currently cutting open Dean and pulling back the skin of his body. “You know, I find myself growing fond of the term Uriel used to use, ‘mud monkeys’.

            “The  _old_  Cas,” Dean stopped and caught his breath at the sight of Castiel’s raised hand, blood all over it, “ _liked_  humans.”

“Crowley proved to be a good acquaintance, very insightful.” Castiel continues, smiling to himself a little as he returned to cutting. “I’m better now, no longer clouded by,” Castiel stopped and searched for a word, his eyes lightening when he found one, “your filth.” He finished with a small laugh.

“I thought you would provide me some of the answers I wanted given the ‘profound bond’ we appeared to share.” It was all very clinical, the way Castiel was talking about  _them_  as if he was disgusted by it. “Couldn’t have taken Sam, he’s too full of demon filth, an abomination. If I want to dissect demons I can easily go get some, already have in fact.” He sighed as if bored now, “They were very unhelpful, bodies too run down.”

“What I want to know if why.” Castiel set the bloody scalpel aside and picked up a pair of small looking tongs.

“Why?” Dean repeated the word, wincing at the added pressure on his body again. He could  _feel_  that Cas’ hand was beneath his skin, pushing and cutting deeper into his body.

“Yes Dean, why? Are you going to be useless like every demon I’ve cut into and thrown aside to die or are you going to be helpful?”

“I don’t—“ he stopped, coughing up a little blood. “I don’t understand what you want from me, what you want me to say.

Castiel stepped closer, moving his face so close to Dean’s that Dean felt as if the cold blue eyes would pierce him like icicles. He inched even closer, flicking his tongue out to wet his lips as he pressed them against Dean’s cheek and spoke into his ear. Castiel wrapped his hand around Dean’s cock, stroking it slowly and letting him feel.

            “You can  _feel_  that, can’t you Dean?” he asked, thumbing over the head when Dean wouldn’t, refused, to answer.

Dean’s breathing hitched and he bit down on his lip hard to stifle his moan, drawing a little blood. He was grateful for the sluggish feeling and not really being able to move because he knew his hips would be humping forward into the air at the familiar and all too good feel of Castiel’s slow moving hand.

One bloody hand wrapped around Dean’s cock, stroking it just how he knew,  _remembered_ , would make Dean crazy and the other buried in his open belly, Castiel cooed into Dean’s ear.

            “Not going to give me answers?” his hand whipped up and down faster making Dean cry out a little before he bit down on his lip again, “Well, that’s too bad.” Castiel lamented and clenched the hand covered inside Dean down hard.

Dean screamed, the pain finally seeping through at full speed and he never stopped screaming. Jaw clenching up and eyes screwing shut when he felt Castiel rip he hand out of his body as the other pressed a thumb into his slit as he came. He didn’t register what Castiel was doing but soon he felt that invisible pressure and grogginess wash over him. The last thing Dean saw before he blacked out was Castiel standing over him, that eerie smirk on his lips and blood on his hands.

Dean felt his body being pushed around, noticed he could actually feel as warm hands pushed around his chest and belly.

            “Dean, Dean.  _Dean_!” it was Sam’s voice ringing through to him.

He opened his eyes a little, casting them down to see Sam’s hands running over his belly, pushing blood around with what looked like Sam’s over shirt. He closed his eyes again and sucked in a deep breath, filling his chest and letting the air push out of him slowly to calm himself.

            “Dean?” Sam had noticed the small movement and brought his hand up to cup Dean’s face, shake him awake.

            “Open your eyes again, please? Just open your goddamn eyes.”

Dean let out a weak chuckle as he did so, eyes adjusting quickly and taking in the frightened look plastered on Sam’s face. Apparently Dean being awake didn’t help because Sam’s eyes where still fill of worry.

            “Come on dude, no click flick moments. Calm down I’m fine.” Dean moved to sit up and found he actually could this time, he could actually move now with the pressure gone and that was a relief in itself.

            “The blood, there’s so much blood, you are  _not_  fine Dean.” Sam sounded more pissed than worried now.

“What?” Dean’s hands reached for his own belly and he felt the warm sticky blood but when he looked down there was not a scratch on him, no evidence that Castiel had cut into him.

“See Sammy?” he patted his belly, flinching only a tad bit, “Nothing to worry about.”

Sam looked down at Dean’s hand and then quickly back up before leaning over to the side to pick up Dean’s clothes that were lying in a neat pile beside the table.

            “Here,” Sam shoved Dean’s jeans into his lap with a small laugh.

As Dean bent down to slide on his pants he felt all the blood leave his head and he became woozy. He had barely pulled them on when he fell forward.

“Dean!” Sam yelled as he caught Dean, the colour all but gone from his face.

“That son of a bitch,” Dean whispered, face ashen and already he noticed the cold clammy feeling take over his body.

He leaned into Sam’s body as Sam pushed him back up but he collapsed back onto the table.

            “Sam?” Dean looked up into the terrified eyes of his younger brother, “We’ve got to… we’ve got to kill that son of a b—“ Dean’s voice cut off as he coughed, blood spurting out again.

            “Yeah Dean okay,” Dam’s words were rushed, “you just hold on and we will. Can’t do a job like that all by myself.”

            “We have to—“ Dean stopped again, eye closing slowly before snapping open again, “Do you promise? Promise me Sammy.”

            “I promise,” Sam said as Dean’s eyes fell vacant and his head lolled to the side, “I promise.” Sam repeated over and over again like a mantra as he held Dean’s dead body.

 

Castiel watched from the corner of the room with a smile on his face.


End file.
